


It's Jarvis, Sir

by miscellea



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Food Porn, JARVIS sass, M/M, possible secret alien robots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-06 19:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miscellea/pseuds/miscellea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing JARVIS does after the Avengers move into the mansion is contact his flesh-and-blood counterpart because some jobs just can’t be done without thumbs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

He arrived late in day, well into the dinner hour, but fortunately the house was empty. All the inhabitants were either elsewhere or dining out. The door unlocked at his touch and he hesitated on the front step for the space of exactly five heartbeats before entering. Lights flickered on and a disembodied voice greeted him.

 

“Welcome back, sir.” JARVIS said softly. “Thank you for answering my call.”

 

“No, it was my pleasure.” He slipped off his coat and folded it over one arm; the one holding his umbrella and hat. “My goodness. He hasn’t changed it at all.” The man let out a slow soft sigh as he gazed upon the servant’s foyer. Habit had led him to the back entrance. He ran a finger along the wainscoting and sniffed disparagingly at the dusting of light gray fuzz that came away on his skin. Apparently he needed to have words with the cleaning crew.

 

“There are plans for some renovations planned for the new residents. Sir has been accepting bids, but has made no firm decisions.” The lights came on in a small hallway to his left. “Your quarters are as you left them. I took the liberty of instructing the cleaning crew to replace the mattress and leave fresh linens. The Master and his guests are attending a mission briefing at SHIELD headquarters. They are not expected back until tomorrow. It would please him if you were to take the evening to settle in.”

 

“Hmm.” The man tilted his head back and turned a rueful smile towards the nearest camera in the ceiling. “Tell me, did you inform Master Anthony that I was returning?”

 

There was a pause. “No, sir, I did not. His emotional state has been understandably fragile of late.” The AI admitted. “Is there anything I might do for you?”

 

Edwin Jarvis set his battered old leather suitcase down on the floor by his feet and glanced around once more. “I’ll need a bit of help around the house, I believe. I’m not as spry as I once was. Please look into finding one or two young people to assist me. I will leave the background checks in your capable hands, JARVIS. Please keep me updated regarding the household schedule and I would like to speak with the owner of the company who manages the house in the morning.”

 

“Very good, sir. I have uploaded the current house schedule to your phone and updated your contacts list. I will have a status report for the other items on your agenda in the morning. In the meantime, please enjoy your rest.”

 

“Thank you.” Edwin stooped to lift his case and paused. He closed his eyes and sighed once more. “I’ve been an old fool, haven’t I?”

 

“No, sir. I don’t believe so.” JARVIS responded. “Misled, perhaps, by a man who turned out to be a master manipulator.”

 

“Not necessarily an excuse, but thank you nevertheless.” He lifted his case and shook his head. “I could have stopped some of the past several years if I hadn’t left –if I hadn’t allowed myself to be driven away.”

 

“Yes, sir, you could have.” JARVIS agreed. “… which is why Stane would have stopped at nothing to have you removed.”

 

“You believe that?”

 

“I do, sir.”

 


	2. The Most Important Impression of the Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edwin knows exactly how to win over a group of paranoid military types who operate under constant stress; by feeding them. 
> 
> The sad part is that it works.

There was a man in the kitchen when Steve got back from his jog.

 

Steve stopped halfway through the huge French doors that led out onto the spacious rear patio and did a threat assessment.

 

The man was of average height and build, perhaps a bit on the thin side in his arms and legs with the beginnings of a belly. His posture was impeccable and he was dressed in a pale blue button-up shirt rolled up at the elbows and tucked into neat charcoal trousers cinched in at the waist with a thin leather belt. His hair had been dark once, but was receding from an already high forehead and had gone steely gray at the temples. His expression was mild, but he had the sort of mouth that smiled easily and the laugh lines around his eyes suggested he let nature take its course.

 

On the one hand, Tony had never mentioned having any staff in the house and as cavalier as the man could be Steve couldn’t quite see him being so self-centered as to completely forget he had domestic employees. On the other hand, the man was doing nothing more sinister than frying a batch of eggs.

 

“JARVIS…” Steve called out softly because as much as the AI sometimes unnerved him, he believed Tony’s claim that it was incredibly difficult to corrupt (very nearly impossible) and as such enemies tended to disable it rather than try to subvert it. If silence greeted him then that was probably all the warning he was going to get…

 

To his surprise, the man at the stove looked up and said “Yes?” in unison with the AI. Then he laughed and shook his head. Steve noted with a growing sense of surreal detachment that he was wearing one of Tony’s novelty aprons, specifically the one that said: ‘USDA Prime Cut –Tender, Succulent, and Naturally Aged… and the meat is not bad either!’ “I apologize. Were you speaking to me or to my namesake?”

 

“I…” Steve blinked as the man, Jarvis apparently, tipped the eggs out of his frying pan and onto a plate of toast and bacon, which he then set out on the breakfast bar next to two enormous glasses; one filled with orange juice and the other with milk.

 

“Perhaps you had better refer to me as ‘Edwin’.” The man suggested and nodded at the plate. “JARVIS briefed me on your dietary requirements. I hope this is enough to hold you until midmorning.”

 

“Uh… yes, of course…” Habit had Steve seated and digging in before his brain was fully back online. The eggs were –well, they were fantastic actually. Jar— _Edwin_ , rather, had managed to fry four eggs in the same pan, which was kind of impressive. Steve inevitably overcooked his whenever he tried to put more than two in the pan and often ended up eating his breakfast in batches. Maybe there was something to this ‘butler’ business. “Ah, how long have you…”

 

“I’ve been with the Stark family since before Master Anthony was born. Regrettably, I was away for a while, but have now returned. Eat your food before it cools.”

 

That was, of course, when Natasha padded into the kitchen wearing Clint’s shirt from the day before and not much else. She blinked sleepily at Edwin and turned to look at Steve with a raised eyebrow that suggested she had a gun on her person somewhere and was willing to use it if necessary.

 

“JARVIS says he’s all right.” Steve tried to look confident and like he knew what the hell was going on but if Natasha’s eyebrow was anything to go by, he succeeded about as well as one might expect given the circumstances. Still, she allowed Edwin to make her a plate and visibly softened as he served her soft boiled eggs, some kind of cheese curd with fruit in it, and dark bread with jam and strong black tea.

 

That scene repeated itself with Clint (the largest Midwestern omelet you have ever seen plus creamer in a mug that Edwin waved the coffee pot at), then Bruce (one of those strange futuristic cereals that looked like what he used to rake out of his grandmother’s lawn with fresh fruit and thick tangy yogurt with green tea), and finally Thor (more dark bread, something called ‘skyr’, honey, fresh fruit, half a box of pop-tarts, hardboiled eggs, beer, coffee, some kind cured _fish_ , and an entire pitcher of milk).

 

Steve felt like he needed to be taking notes because apparently the way to a superhero’s heart really _was_ through his or her stomach. By the end of the meal, there wasn’t a single solitary soul in the kitchen who even remembered that they’d been suspicious of the mild-mannered gentleman for even a few seconds. That included Coulson who wandered in halfway through (from where, Steve could only guess because he certainly hadn’t stayed the night), and accepted both Edwin’s presence and a mug of strong black coffee in stride.

 

Breakfast was winding down for most folks when Tony finally staggered in from somewhere. Judging from the smudges under his eyes and the dirty coffee cup cradled in his hands, he was coming in from the workshop and not his bedroom. He stumbled blindly past everyone at the breakfast bar heading straight for the coffeemaker. Edwin snagged his cup as he passed, but Tony didn’t seem to actually notice until he lifted the carafe and realized he didn’t have anything to pour into. He stared at his hand, grasping and releasing empty air with a claw-like hand, before he finally looked up with the most pathetic hangdog expression Steve had ever seen on a human being as if he literally could not understand the cruel whims of the universe that had led him to such an impasse.

 

Steve covered his mouth to hide his smile because as much as he wants to dislike Tony when he’s in Genius Billionaire Asshole mode it always gets pushed aside when Tony is just Tony and by definition ramped up on new ideas, endorphins, and enough caffeine to overwhelm even a cheetah’s metabolism as he blows stuff up in the basement and wanders around in welder’s goggles with motor oil in his hair, but yet is somehow never too busy to fix Natasha’s phone or replace Clint’s body armor.

 

However, Edwin was busy while Tony was enacting his elaborate pantomime of dismay and –as funny as it was to watch Tony when he was into his 60th hour without sleep- Steve found his attention diverted as the older man loaded up a blender cup like a sorcerer overseeing the concoction of a magic potion. Only instead of ‘eye of newt’ and ‘tail of dog’, Edwin’s mysterious bottles and jars were labeled with names like ‘psyllium husk powder’, ‘flax seed oil’, ‘whey powder’, and ‘acai berry juice’. There were some recognizable ingredients going in; peach slices for example. The result was this murky green sludge that Edwin garnished with an orange slice and deposited in Tony’s grasping hand.

 

Tony blinked at it like he had no idea how it got there then he knocked like a third of it back, which was kind of worrying and made Steve realize that apparently someone needed to keep an eye on him so he didn’t just eat or drink whatever people gave him. The villains they fought as the Avengers weren’t always the brightest of the bunch, but there were a few who were nothing if not observant and they caused more trouble than all the rest combined.

 

Then the light came on and Tony actually registered Edwin’s presence. His eyes widened as he lifted his head and slowly turned to look at the butler standing next to him.

 

Steve tensed despite himself as he realized that no, it wasn’t that Tony had forgotten to introduce his staff. He legitimately hadn’t known Edwin was there.

 

“… Jarvis?” He squeaked and… Jesus, Mary, and Joseph Steve did not want to know what kind of past they had that put that expression on Tony’s face because he could handle Tony when he was manic and when he was being a narcissistic ass, but he did not think that he could handle the idea of Tony Stark looking that heartbreakingly vulnerable.

 

“Hello, Lad.”

 

A tug on his sleeve diverted his attention. It was Bruce, as it turned out, and he nodded his head towards the door. Steve felt himself go red as he realized that everyone else had already excused themselves. He put his dishes away (because some habits were just too hard to ignore) and followed Bruce out into the livingroom.

 

He overheard some of the following conversation, but not enough to really make sense of it because he wasn’t actually _trying_ to eavesdrop. Whatever was going on between Tony and his butler really wasn’t any of Steve’s business.

 

… or at least it ought not to have been.

 

The peace lasted as long as it took Miss Potts (he still couldn’t make himself call her ‘Pepper’, even after she threatened him with Darcy’s taser) to show up with about a million things Tony was supposed to have signed last week, but didn’t. Although for once it wasn’t actually his fault; von Doom had unleashed a horde of actual zombies on a fake zombie flash mob in a fit of pique because their lack of authenticity offended him and it had taken _daaaays_ to clean up the ensuing mess.

 

She dropped every single file, folder, tablet, and gizmo the second she clapped eyes on Edwin who had been in the middle of dusting the top of the entertainment center –or, well, actually he’d been squinting in confusion at the footprints Clint had left in the dust up there.

 

“… Edwin?” She took a tentative step forward, not even noticing that she stepped on what appeared to be the lease renewal for the New York STARK Tower. Her eyes watered up and the very next second she had her arms around the man’s neck. “Oh, thank god you’re back. Whatever it was Tony did I’ll make sure he never does it again. I will have that part of his brain surgically removed just please don’t ever leave again…”

 

Steve escaped right about then, but he still overheard snatches of the following conversation as he fled down the hallway to his room. Still, whoever ‘Obie’ was it was probably a good thing he was dead because an awful lot of people were threatening to dig him up do it over again.

 

Later on he learned from JARVIS (not Jarvis) that ‘Obie’ was actually Obadaiah Stane, which unfortunately made a lot of sense. Steve had known a Stane from way back when, but only in passing. He had been Howard’s business partner, but didn’t have nearly the same security clearance that Howard rated and hadn’t been as successful as he would have liked in hiding just how much that grated on him.

 

Howard had cast a long shadow when he was alive and sometimes Steve wondered just how many men had gotten lost in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a bit too much fun with breakfast, but I'm writing a butler here. He's got priorities.
> 
> What's that you say? Why is Coulson wandering around when he died in the movies?
> 
> Don't be silly. He closed his eyes very briefly for a well deserved nap. He is not dead. He is sitting up in a hospital bed somewhere writing Fury a VERY CRANKY note about the state of his vintage, very nearly mint Captain America trading cards and I will not hear you if you try to tell me otherwise.


	3. Standard Operating Procedure: Steve is Never Allowed to Talk Again Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not that Steve is nosey. He just hears... everything.

Edwin settled into the mansion like there’d been a hole there in exactly his dimensions, which –given the incredible effect his presence had on Tony’s mood- was not impossible. It was kind of weird having one’s needs anticipated with such ruthless efficiency, but after the first day or so there wasn’t the least hint of awkwardness… especially when Edwin started letting Steve wash his own plate and help load the dishwasher. He kind of suspected that Edwin was humoring him, but whatever. Tony might be used to having servants, but Steve wasn’t exactly paying the man’s wage and he didn’t like feeling like he was taking advantage of people.

 

There were some other new people around the house, starting with a teenage boy who didn’t even last through the security interview with Coulson before fleeing the mansion in tears ( _awkward_ ) and ending with Edwin’s latest assistant; a bomb-proof female engineering student with shocking pink hair and more piercings than Steve had been aware existed who was equally at home scrubbing floors or herding DUM-E back down the freight elevator whenever he escaped. She was not impressed by any of them, leading Clint to speculate (loudly) that she was secretly a robot.

 

Steve didn’t necessarily agree, but he still kept an eye out. Weirder things had happened.

 

One of the down side of communal living plus enhanced hearing was that, try as he might, Steve kept overhearing things. Sometimes it was just Bruce fussing at his microscope or Thor’s secret fascination with Regular Ordinary Swedish Mealtime. Sometimes it was stuff he was pretty sure Natasha would have to kill him over if he ever let on that he could hear her phone conversations through the wall. Sometimes it was more pieces to the puzzle of who Edwin Jarvis was and why his presence was having such a profound effect on one Tony Stark.

 

… not that Steve was listening, he just happened to overhear things every now and then. Like the tail end of a conversation between Ms. Potts and Edwin as they’d passed through the livingroom one afternoon when Steve was on the patio sketching some of the finches who lived in the wooded area out back. He liked to do nature studies, although he didn’t quite have the artistic chops for full out landscapes.

 

“..arvis, it was just so long. My god, nearly ten years. What brought you back? Why did you quit in the first place?” Steve froze as Pepper’s voice floated out onto the deck through the open door. He had to force himself to relax and remember that he wasn’t actually doing anything wrong.

 

“I apologize for my absence, Miss Potts.” Came Edwin’s reply. There was a soft tinkle of glass. He was probably collecting the water glasses Clint continually left in his wake wherever he went. “I was led to believe that my services were no longer required. To my great shame, I believed it and left quietly.”

 

“But why you, Jarvis? Stane was… well, all right, he was an egomaniacal lecher, but what would he have had to gain from getting rid of you?”

 

“Control over Master Anthony, I can only guess.” There was a sigh. “I should have known better, of course. The young master had been many things in his life, but ‘cruel’ was never one of them. I should have spoken to him directly, but I allowed hurt feelings to cloud my judgment. More the fool me.”

 

“Don’t talk like that, Jarvis. You’re back now, that’s what matters.”

 

“Yes, I suppose it is. Now perhaps you can explain to me something about…” The conversation moved out of range then and Steve turned his attention back to his sketchbook –only to find Natasha crouched in front of him with a wicked little smile playing on her lips.

 

“Jesus!” He lurched back. “Natasha, don’t do that!”

 

“I didn’t sneak up on you.” She replied smoothly. “You were so absorbed in what was going on over there that you didn’t have any attention to spare for me. The sparrows flew away ages ago and you didn’t even notice.”

 

“Finches.” He muttered. “They were finches.”

 

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Whatever. More importantly, Captain. I think we’re in a position to help one another.”

 

“We’re already on the same team, Natasha. I think ‘helping each other’ is literally in the job description.”

 

“I meant the little mystery of our new butler.” She sat on the low wall at the edge of the patio in front of him (where the finches used to be) and crossed her legs as she favored him with a droll expression. “I think I have all the pieces except for a few. Not all of us have super-powered hearing, Captain.”

 

“… and why are you so concerned, Romanova?” Steve squinted at her in the bright afternoon light. “It’s none of our business.”

 

“I’m not concerned. I’m _curious_.” She corrected him. “Now tell me and I’ll forget about how you’ve been ‘accidently’ listening in on my phone conversations.”

 

“How did you even…” He shook his head. It wasn’t worth it. “I don’t know much, but here’s what I’ve heard…”

 

He proceeded to outline the few conversations he’d caught bits of; Tony muttering dire things about ‘fucking Obie’ and the few things Pepper and JARVIS had let slip. Natasha listened without interrupting and when he was done, she nodded to herself and said “I see.”

 

“What do you see?”

 

“Nothing conclusive, but I think I can speculate from here.” She shrugged one slender shoulder. “Nothing world shaking. Shame. I was hoping for something a little juicier.”

 

“Maybe you could fill me in?” Steve pressed and scowled when she grinned at him (not a little cattily).

 

“Thought it wasn’t any of our business?”

 

“ _Romanova_ …”

 

“Fine.” She leaned forward. “Tell me, how would you gain control of an enemy operative?”

 

Steve shrugged. “Counter intelligence was never my field, Natasha. They only send me in when things need to be punched or blown up.”

 

“Killjoy.” Natasha shook her head in reproof. “The best way to control an operative is to control the information he receives. You filter his communications so he only hears what _you_ want him to hear. If you want to turn him then you cut away his support network in order to limit positive influences in his life. The end goal is to have him isolated from his peers and reliant upon you.”

 

“So… this Stane guy was trying to control Tony? By running off his butler? That’s a bit far-fetched.”

 

“Not really. Tony’s mind is worth a lot of money. There are a lot of people who would do worse to gain the trillions he used to generate in revenue.” Natasha dropped down to her feet, evidently bored by the subpar results of her investigation. “Take a look at the Iron Monger file. Fascinating reading.”

 

Steve watched her leave with narrowed eyes. Natasha was without peer when it came to intelligence work and perhaps it shouldn’t come as a surprise that she was interested in the casual little daily mysteries of the mansion as well as the big terrifying mysteries between governments, but why did he have the feeling that she’d left their conversation having accomplished something?

 

That night Steve pulled up the Iron Monger file and spent a fairly grim evening reading it.

 

On the positive side, he finally knew why everyone wanted Obadaiah Stane dead. Unfortunately he also now knew a bit more about the arc reactor lurking underneath Tony’s shirt.

 

The dossier Fury had given him had implied that the reactor was a highly unique power source for the Iron Man armor and that was still sort of true, but…

 

Steve rubbed at his sternum and wondered if Tony could feel the tiny shards of metal in his chest, straining to reach his heart every second of every day. He hoped not, but knew better.

 

‘This can’t change anything.’ Steve told himself. ‘This changes nothing.’

 

Tony was still Tony and Tony was Iron Man. He didn’t need pity. He actively rejected it. He burned it to the ground and salted the earth wherever it sprouted. A precision orbital strike was not out of the question.

 

… so Steve would just go on as he had been. Maybe he’d mind his mouth a bit more closely in the future. Maybe he’d come up with an SOP for the next time Tony’s arc reactor cut out on him. He could handle this. He’d make it right.

 

_Big man in a suit of armor –take that away and what are you?_

 

Steve groaned and buried his face in his hands. Maybe he’d write up another SOP where he was never allowed to open his big stupid mouth _ever again_.


	4. Repartee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fury vs. Jarvis
> 
> ... nuff said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, guys. Sorry, just got back from vacation. There will be more shortly!

 

“Sir, there is a …visitor for you in the forward lounge.” JARVIS announced as Edwin stepped in the door, one arm loaded down with the lighter products of his shopping excursion. Cassidy –who was a much more personable young lady when the Family wasn’t present- was dealing with the rest of it.

 

“I see.” Edwin set his hat down upon the counter of the lower kitchen, which was a product of those bygone days when Master Howard and Madame entertained large numbers of business associates in their home and required the use of a commercial grade kitchen. He’d half expected it to be ripped out during one of the many remodels over the years to make way for a laboratory or an additional garage, but it had been left untouched except for the occasional appliance upgrade.

 

Edwin never had been able to get a straight answer out of the young master as to why that was so, but… then again, he had so many memories of a small darksome boy underfoot or balanced on one hip as he either cooked or directed the downstairs staff that maybe he already had his answer.

 

“Has this guest been waiting long?” He asked the ceiling and perhaps it was his imagination, but did that camera give a nervous twitch?

 

“Not _inappropriately_ long, sir.” The AI responded with a cool dignity and subtle evasiveness that Edwin had to admire. When he’d – _left_ , Butterfingers had been the most sophisticated construct on the premises. However, the JARVIS personality was truly stunning… and Edwin saw it from the vantage point of someone who had borne witness to Howard Stark’s creative drive when it was at its peak.

 

“I see…”

 

To his surprise, Edwin recognized his guest when he arrived upstairs.

 

“Mister Fury.” He said, very pleased with his ability to keep his tone even. “How pleasant to see you looking so unnaturally preserved.”

 

Nicolas Fury had come a long way from Howard Stark’s scrawny hollow-eyed twenty-something associate, but not in Edwin’s opinion nearly as far as he ought to have. He’d stalled out somewhere along forty and remained frozen there teetering on the razor’s edge that every veteran walked between peak physical ability accumulated life experience.

 

… and nevermind that Fury ought to have been in the latter half of his nineties.

 

“Well, I suppose that answers that question.” Fury replied in an even tone, exactly opposite the hotheaded wiseass that Edwin remembered. “I’m surprised you remember me.”

 

“I have cultivated a memory for faces.” Edwin responded crossing over to look out the window Fury had posed himself in front of. “It comes in handy when one is in service.”

 

“From what I’ve read of your file, you didn’t learn that in _domestic_ service.”

 

It was actually sort of adorable; at one point or another, Nicolas Fury had learned the value of patience. That probably explained why he was still alive. If he’d been asked about the likelihood of that happening way back when, Edwin would not have chosen to bet on it. “Master Howard recruited wherever he saw talent and I was unable to continue my career in the military, so…” He shrugged.

 

Edwin regretted nothing about his life, except perhaps the past nine years or so. Marriage had never appealed to him and children… he already had that. He’d lived most of his life picking up that which foolish people chose to throw away, even if he did not always appreciate them better than their original owners.

 

Fury’s expression was unreadable, which was a feat. He had an expressive face and the missing eye did little to detract from it. “I’m here to offer you a job.”

 

 _Ah_.

 

“I decline.”

 

“I’m not asking you to spy for me. You would be a SHIELD administrator; full benefits and better pay than you’d be getting here.” Fury pressed on like he was the first man to make that particular offer.

 

“Clearly, you do not know what I get paid here.” Edwin took note of the half-emptied decanter of brandy sitting by the window. That would need to be refilled. “I’m not interested, please feel free to see yourself out.”

 

They stared at each other as the minutes ticked by; Fury scowled and Edwin wore his blandest smile.

 

Fury broke first.

 

“Shit.” He muttered. “What is your silence going to cost me?”

 

Edwin cocked an eyebrow. “What silence?”

 

“You know what I mean. Money? Favors? What.”

 

He considered it for a moment. “Cut Master Anthony’s working hours.” He said at last.

 

Fury crossed his arms. “The Avengers are on call. I don’t control the need for them.”

 

“I meant the consulting hours.” Edwin clarified. “JARVIS, please forward Master Anthony’s timetable for the last week to our guest’s phone.”

 

A shallow _Bzzzzt!_ escaped the front left pocket of Nick Fury’s leather duster and the spy irritably retrieved it. He did everything irritably, it seemed. He woke up the miniaturized tablet with a flick of his thumb and scanned the color-coded timetable. “What am I looking at?”

 

“The time Sir has spent working on project development is shown in blue.” JARVIS explained. “Stark Projects are dark blue, SHIELD projects are light. Publicity work is shown in yellow and is both SHIELD and Stark related time combined. Personal time is depicted in green and sleep is red.”

 

Fury glanced up at the ceiling in that suspicious half-glance people tended to deploy when JARVIS started talking, like he was really someone hiding up in the rafters with a megaphone. Edwin was actually a bit irritated on the AI’s behalf, however Fury returned his attention to the schedule and his frown deepened as he examined the information there.

 

“This has been a good week, Director.” JARVIS added. “There have been no Avenger-related missions or other emergencies and the publicity work has been relatively light.”

 

“I’ll see about renegotiating the deadlines and suspending some of these projects.” Fury grumbled. “Will that be _all_?”

 

“For the moment.”

 

Fury glared at him and Edwin responded with a mild little smile of ‘I’m sorry, were you expecting a better offer?’

 

He leveled a finger in Edwin’s face. “Now you listen: I will entertain a _few_ reasonable requests, but the second you start getting delusions of grandeur I’m going to start remembering a few things I’ve deliberately forgotten. Like how I seem to recall meeting you in 1936.”

 

“Have fun trying to prove that, Mister Fury.” Edwin smiled. “I sincerely anticipate seeing the fruits of your labor.”

 

 “I remembered you being an asshole.” The spy said at last. “I don’t know why I expected you to have mellowed with age and you’re the one who raised Stark? No wonder I can’t stand him either.”

 

“Master Anthony has grown into a fine man who I am very proud of.” Edwin tilted his head in the general direction of the front entrance; about as close as he would ever get to saying ‘Get the hell out’ as he ever would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I could never figure out the chronology of Jarvis so I decided to play with it a bit.
> 
> I'm also assuming everyone knows that Nick Fury debuted in the 40s and apparently has anti-aging pills.


	5. Like Father...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intelligence work is all about assembling the pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gracious! This fic went from 2700 hits to over 4000 in a single day. I feel guilty now. You guys clearly deserve more of an update than the last one. 
> 
> Hope this is a bit better!

Okay, so there was definitely something to the whole ‘butler’ thing.

  
Steve tried (on general principle) not to get spoiled by someone handling the small day-to-day details like shopping, meal planning, and glaring at Hawkeye when he put his shoes on the furniture, but it was increasingly difficult –especially when Edwin would look at him like he was a charming, if not particularly bright young puppy whenever he tried to wash his own plate or do his own laundry instead of leaving it in the basket for Cassidy to pick up.  
  


… and the food. Sweet heaven, the food .  
  


Growing up in the poorer area of Brooklyn meant that Steve had never been able to really eat his fill growing up. His mother tried her best and he’d never really gone hungry. That hadn’t really changed when he grew up. Advertising design hadn’t paid much, but he’d been able to get by. Then he was in the army and his enhanced metabolism rated him some extra rations, but not quite enough to keep up with his fool stomach.  
  


There were five scheduled meals in the mansion, not including the platter of cold cuts and crudité that Edwin kept going in the upstairs kitchen at all times. There were the normal mealtimes, plus large snacks that could be considered full meals in their own right for the supercharged members of the team, which was pretty much Steve, Thor, and surprisingly Bruce who expended an enormous number of calories every time he hulked out.  
  


Edwin, as it turned out, was born to cook and loved nothing so much as having a full house of people to feed. He had an encyclopedic knowledge of everyone’s likes and dislikes (with JARVIS’s shameless enablement). The upstairs kitchen became the heart of the mansion, especially after missions.  
It was a constant surprise to Steve that Tony didn’t weigh something like three-hundred pounds growing up with Edwin Jarvis in the kitchen. Especially considering the way the man sometimes had to chase his employer around with a loaded plate and a determined expression.  
  


Tony sort of lived off smoothies, Steve had discovered; smoothies of all colors and consistencies including one noxious concoction that looked exactly like motor oil and smelled like the front lawn. That one was ordered on Tony’s behalf by JARVIS once a month and the AI would wreak holy hell with Tony’s schedule until the man sat down and drank it.  
  


“… but what is that?” Bruce had asked once when they were all sitting slumped, drained, and starving around the kitchen counter after a fight while Jarvis fixed them something to eat (it turned out to be chocolate chip pancakes with homemade mint ice cream and fudge sauce. There existed such a thing as chocolate chip pancakes . Steve Rogers could die a happy man.)  
  


Tony made an expression halfway between a scowl and a pout as he lifted a squirt bottle of the stuff up to his lips for another pull. “Good for me.” He said in a voice that said he felt it was anything but.

“JARVIS came up with the recipe. It …helps.”  
  


“Helps with what?” Asked Steve, who had by that point learned that it was equally important to listen to what his teammates didn’t say as it was the things they did. He hadn’t had that problem with the Howling Commandos. The real trick had been getting that rowdy lot to shut up on occasion.  
  


His only reply had been an evasive little shrug before Tony turned away to look at something else like he was a five-year-old.  
  


Steve wondered if it had to do with the arc reactor.  
  


SHIELD had books and books of intelligence about the big one that powered Stark Tower, largely contradictory and all of it could be summed up with ‘We have no blinking clue how this thing works’. The intelligence on the miniaturized version sitting in Tony’s chest was even less coherent, except for what little SHIELD knew about its construction. Parts had been redacted or just blacked out entirely, which was impressive considering the fact that Steve’s security clearance ranked just below Director Fury’s.  
  


Natasha’s name had come up a few times, often literally as the only legible word in an entire page of thick black lines, so he had the option of asking her… if he ever got brave enough to put himself in a position where he owed the Black Window a favor.  
  


… which, yeah , not going to happen anytime soon.  
  


“You could always ask Tony.” Clint pointed out once before he winced and shook his head. “Wait, no. You can’t. I take that back. Don’t ask Tony.”  
  


“The Man of Iron is only hard on the outside.” Thor observed from his lounge chair out on the patio, not really taking his attention away from the birds that flew past overhead. “Armor is his most appropriate strength.” He added, like a Viking fortune cookie.  
  


“Yeah, thanks Thor, but if Tony Stark has a soft gooey center then it’s full of RDX and shrapnel.” Clint replied. “Crack the shell; pull back a stump.”  
  


… all in all, that conversation had been a reminder of why Steve didn’t generally go to Clint or Thor for advice.  
  


“It’s chlorophyll.” Cassidy explained to him the next day when he finally remembered who did nine-tenths of the shopping for his group. “The stuff that plants use to convert sunlight into energy.” She tossed him a packet of something that claimed to be ‘Sun Chlorella’ granules. “Keep it. We have a million in the pantry.”  
  


So Steve did, if only to read the back in private… which was of no help whatsoever. The product made a lot of claims and sort of reminded him of the tonic salesmen he used to see at the fairs. If the back was to be believed it prevented cancer, regenerated cellular damage, neutralized blood toxins, and helped you assimilate ‘heavy metals’. All of that sounded pretty nice, but didn’t really help him narrow down whatever it was that Tony was keeping from the rest of the group –and Tony was always keeping something from the rest of the group.  
  


No one else gave him that kind of trouble not even Bruce, and Bruce turned into a fifteen-foot-tall rage monster . The only person who came close to ‘Tony’ level trouble was Thor and at least with Thor you could keep him out of trouble for an afternoon with a trip to Costco and a cartoon marathon on TV.  
That night someone slid a note underneath his door that only read ‘Rhodey’.  
  


Steve sighed, resigned himself to owing Natasha an unspecified favor, and called Colonel Rhodes to see if he was interested in some pool. As it turned out, he was.  
  


Luck was with him. Rhodey was every bit as interested in trading facts as Steve was. Apparently the Avengers initiative had him worried.  
  


“Fury approached me about a year back, but I’ve worked with those assholes before…” He said as Steve lined up his shot. “Uh, no offense intended, Cap.” He added after a moment.  
  


“None taken.” Steve assured him. “…and it’s just Steve right now.”  
  


“Fair enough.” Rhodey shrugged. “Like I said, they made me the offer but I wasn’t interested. Didn’t think Tony would be either. You might have noticed that he’s not too keen on taking orders.”  
  


“I’d gotten that impression, yes.”  
  


“Besides, his health hasn’t been great since that whole thing two years back.” Rhodey frowned, staring at the table without really seeing it. “He’s never hit a limit he can’t stretch.”  
  


“I’ve noticed he’s still drinking the chlorophyll.” Steve commented without guile. There was a benefit to having a face like his. No one really noticed when he started fishing for information.  
  


“That stuff? Still?” Rhodey scowled. “I thought he’d gotten the palladium cleaned out of his system.”  
Steve just shrugged. “I can’t pretend to understand what happened. Someone tried to explain it to me, but the jargon tends to go over my head.”  
  


“Heh. You and me both.” The airman shook his head. “This is old news, but Tony used to use a palladium core in his… uh…” He made a vague gesture towards his chest. “Thing. Palladium is toxic; very toxic. So for a while the arc reactor was slowly poisoning his blood while it kept the shrapnel in check. Those weren’t good times. We all thought Tony was having a breakdown and he was, just not for the reasons we thought. Let me tell you, Cap; watching Tony Stark check off points on his bucket list is a major trip .”  
  


“So what happened?” Steve pressed and Rhodey made a face.  
  


“Things were said. It’s cool now, but I don’t think Tony’s quite forgiven me yet for taking the suit.” He paused. “Or for letting Hammer modify it; one of those. He and I? We don’t talk like we used to. He let me keep the War Machine suit, but he doesn’t upgrade it like the Iron Man suit. Just basic repairs.”  
“It might not be that.” Steve thought back to the way Tony had been throwing himself into his work.

“Tony’s had a lot on his plate. Scuttlebutt has it that his butler got Fury to back off on some of SHIELD’s ongoing projects because he was running himself ragged down there in the basement and wouldn’t accept any help.”  
  


“Sounds like Tony.” Rhodey laughed and it was a good sound. A hopeful one. “Maybe I’ll swing by next time I’m in New York. Drag him out into the sun… uh… Cap. You mentioned a butler?”  
  


“Yeah. Jarvis… er. Jarvis the first. I guess?” Steve shrugged. “He showed up about a month or so back. You could have knocked Tony over with a feather and Miss Potts was over the moon.”  
  


“Hell yeah!” It wasn’t hard to see that Rhodey had known and loved the older man too. “I knew he’d be back. Tony’s like his own kid. Did you know? When Tony and I graduated MIT, Jarvis was the one who stood in the crowd and watched us walk the stage. Howard had a…a thing and sent a film crew instead.”  
  


Steve could see that and had to smile a bit. “I bet he watched that until it wore out.” Howard had been like that. His wife had sent reels and reels of film to wherever Howard had been stationed. Usually it was just nonsense; pictures of the garden outside their house or horses at her parents’ place, but Howard had watched every single one of them until the film broke and then laboriously patched each break back together.  
  


… but Rhodey’s gaze sort of skittered to the left. “Maybe.” He allowed. “He might not have gotten the chance. The car wreck happened a few years later. He and Maria died. I found the tape still in its wrapping from the studio... didn’t show it to Tony. He didn’t need that.” He winced. “Sorry, Cap. I know he was your friend.”  
  


“He was.” Steve ignored the old pang. It was a familiar pain. “I know he didn’t... turn out well. I’m just sad that I wasn’t there for him. Maybe I could have changed things.”  
  


“Maybe, but Howard Stark didn’t turn out the way he did for lack of people trying to help him.” Rhodey’s voice had gone dark. “Tony’s mom broke her heart trying to stop the drinking. There was a lot of speculation that he was drunk the night they wrecked the car. It got hushed up, but not hushed enough.”  
  


“You don’t believe that.” Steve observed because he didn’t, not for a second.  
  


“No.” Rhodey admitted. “Hindsight’s 20-20. I think the rumors were a smokescreen for what really happened. Tony’s designs were just starting to get attention right around then and he was... impressionable. Stane was more of a father to him than Howard was. The timing was just too good.”  
  


Another mark against Stane. Not for the first time, Steve wished he’d been found just a few years earlier. Being there when that bastard died would have been a good feeling.  
  


“So... about the palladium poisoning.” Steve steered the conversation back to his original question. There wasn’t a lot to do about Stane and he didn’t want Rhodey to get tired of talking before he had the answers he needed.  
  


“Old news. Howard pulled through for once.” Rhodey took his turn at the table. “Give the man credit for something. He left behind a puzzle that Tony solved; crazy bastards both of them. He’d discovered this unknown element and mapped out the atom. Hid it in the layout of the Stark Expo and Tony figured out how to make it. I forget what it’s called... vibranium? Something like that.”  
  


_Vibranium_.  
  


Steve bit back a laugh. Of course it was.  
  


‘Good for you, Howard.’ He thought to himself, allowing the conversation to lapse. It still hurt, thinking of the ways in which his friend had gone on to hurt himself and those around him, yet still pulled off a miracle from beyond the grave.  
  


There were worse legacies.


End file.
